Burning Needs
by Guardian Angel Yukito
Summary: [HughesxRoy] He needs to know who he was. Needs it like a drug. [T bordering M]


_Lips on his neck, fingers in his hair, a voice against his ear, repeating lost words, over and over again._

"What is this?" He asks, but never receives an answer. He never does. They don't like to tell him. Just in case he back fires. "What is this?" He repeats, but his voice falls on dead ears, silent and unforgiving. He sees someone shrug, but still no answer. "What is this?" He's demanding now, slamming a fist down against the table, cracks it in half. They're unfazed. Like always.

--

Photographs line his wall. Stuck up with pins and bluetack, with notes and newspaper clippings. It's like a drug this is, he muses. He needs to _know_. So many questions that slam around inside of his brain. He stares at them for a long time. Hisses. Snarls. Whispers to himself. There's no one to give him an answer this time, but the many faces that stare back at him from filmy paper are of slight consolation. "Who are you?" He demands of the air, but the many flat mouths say nothing.

--

He hurts himself a lot. He doesn't understand. They lock him up. Can't keep him restrained for long. Too powerful. Too angry. _Need to know, need to know._ He has another photo in his pocket. He watches as it's burnt before his eyes, along with his clothes. Punishment. They'll go after his other things, too. His sources, his goals. _Need to know, need to know._ They laugh, they mock, they strike out and taunt him with clues and tidbits. _"She had sandy hair." "He liked promotions."_

_--_

This urge - it burns him. Burns him from the inside. He's dented the walls of his prison, made marks into the metal, stained it with his blood, raked messages and patterns into the metal. Nobody comes when he screams for forgiveness. Nobody comes when he begs to know. He's going insane. _Can he go insane? _Hates himself. _Or maybe them?_ Bites into his skin, rakes his nails down his back. _Need to know, need to know._

_--_

He doesn't understand what's happening. Cold air. Water. Gentle hands. Soothing voices. He screams at them, lashes out, but they say they understand. Here to help. He believes them to be a trick of his mind. They aren't there, aren't real. Nobody ever comes.

--

He's been free for a while now. He's a little closer to knowing. Just a little. He's got his sanity back. The scars are healing, but he's marked forever. Internally. On his soul. _Does he have a soul? Of course he does. He's human. Of course, of course._ But he's seen him now. And now he's hooked. Needs it like a drug. Sees him every night. Needs his fix. Can almost smell him, hear him, taste him. And that need and urge is back. Burning, writhing, gnashing.

--

He nearly dies. He's touching him. Fingers trailing through soft hair. Ever so lightly, every so lightly. Must not wake him up. If he wakes, he's in trouble. Flashes of images, distorted voices and kisses in the dark. It hurts his head. _Need to know, need to know._ But he isn't brave. Can't wake him. Leaves quickly: through the window, across the gap, travelling by moonlight across roofs. He'll be back soon - needs his fix.

--

Somebody's spotted him. He doesn't know how or when. Always been so secretive. He can see him now. He's awake. Staring back. Frightened? People are grabbing him. Ambush. Someone's holding something, and it stops him. Freezes him. _Hurts._ He's being dragged away, and ohgodhecanseehim. He cares. He shouts at them, orders them to let the thing go. Doesn't call him a man. That hurts. More than this urging, desperate need.

--

Caged again. Insanity. Anger. Fear. Pain. _Hurtshurtshurts._ He knows what they plan. Tests. He tries to kill himself, but he only comes back. Rips his own head off. It grows back. Cuts, claws, bites. Doesn't work. Needs to get out, needs to be free, needs to _know_.

--

He isn't aware that he's dying. No, he knows he is, he won't admit it. But it's relieving. He feels peaceful. Sighs. Smiles. Hears voices, but blocks them out. He's fading, fading. No more urges, needs to know, just ... fading. Fading. Gone.


End file.
